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  Rounding out my all-fruit diet were pineapples and coconuts. Using my rock dagger, I could mutilate a pineapple in a quick minute, but the coconuts were tougher. I’d pierce the shell, tip back the fruit, and chug the milk like I was swigging a Sprite, then after drinking it dry, I’d bang the husk against a rock. But so far every single coconut had refused to break, and I’d been through at least eight. Not even my rock dagger could crack one, and shards of that stuff could slash through almost anything, including my heel, which was still tender and swollen. Soaking my foot in the ocean seemed to be helping, but each time I sat in the sea, fish teased me mercilessly, flaunting their edible selves.

  I really wanted fish, even if it meant eating sushi. Unable to capture a fish by hand—I mean, who does that?—I made a spear using materials left over from my shelter project. Okay, less a spear, more like a bamboo rod with a sharp rock tied to the end with a green palm frond strip. I figured maybe I could whack a fish.

  But like cracking coconuts, spearfishing with a crappy, homemade spear proved impossible. Maybe it was my spear, maybe it was my poor technique. It didn’t matter; the result was the same: no fish.

  Frustrated, I picked up my worthless spear and chucked it into the sea. The spear flew over the water, skipped once, then sank. Super, I thought, instantly regretting my impulsive throw. If I didn’t find some decent food, I’d disappear, too.

  Leaving the water, I wandered south. Maybe I’ll find a nut tree, I thought optimistically. Then I prayed I’d know an edible nut if I saw one.

  I passed the thick stand of bamboo, then the grove of palms, but desperate for more than coconut milk, I kept going, venturing farther south than ever. The vegetation thinned as the bay curved toward the sea, ending at a stern cliff. Black and massive, the cliff was bare rock. Near the base, a small bush with glossy green leaves grew alone. Tucked inside the leaves were bumpy yellow fruits.

  More fruit, I thought without enthusiasm, but at least this fruit offered variety. The bush looked healthy, the warty fruit less so, and as I went to pluck a yellow fruit, the unmistakable stench of vomit hit me in the face. Gagging, I stumbled away, working not to retch.

  Leaving the stinky plant, I climbed. The cliff was riddled with openings, perfect for hands and feet. I fell into an easy rhythm, and after turning the bend, I found myself inside a series of massive rock arches.

  The view was stunning.

  Blue sky filled the openings, perfectly framed in black. Below me, water hissed and spit against rocks, churning white on black. I turned in a slow circle, and something caught my eye. Something smooth in a wash of crags.

  The largest arch, still a volleyball court’s distance away, boasted a large flat spot at eye level. No, not flat, at least not totally. Fissures graced the rock face, too uniform to be natural.

  Intrigued, I hiked closer. A carving decorated the rock face: a maze, etched in a perfect circle, with a human figure in the very center. Like a primitive cave drawing, I thought. But the longer I studied the carving, the more I realized the maze was too symmetrical to be primitive; it was more like one of those freaky designs that pop up on cornfields overnight. But that wasn’t right either. Given the level of detail, this glyph was no overnight sensation. The human figure at the epicenter suggested the carver was human, or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe. What I needed to believe. Despite my gruesome skull discovery, I hadn’t shaken my alien planet worry.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, tracing the rings and trying to discern meaning from their existence. Long enough for my legs to cramp. Long enough for my stomach to rebel. Long enough for the air to turn cool.

  The chill snapped my reverie. Looking up, I saw that the sun had dropped, and I couldn’t scramble away fast enough. I didn’t want to be caught out here at night.

  Leaving the rock arches took longer than I expected. My original pathways were blocked by the tide, forcing me higher to avoid being crushed against the rocks by churning water. By the time I made it back to my hideout, I was shaking and sweating. And I was starving.

  Unfortunately, coconuts were the only choice I had.

  I drained one quickly, but gagged on the sweet milk and fought to keep it down. Wracked with stomach cramps, I longed for a bagel, or toast. And a Sprite. A fountain Sprite, on crushed ice, lemon-limey sweet with just enough bubbles to settle my stomach. Holding my stomach, I shuddered. Then, watching the sun drop close to the water, I shuddered again.

  The nights were a million times worse than the days.

  Nights were pitch-black, full of claustrophobic, creepy darkness. Nights were when the shakes came, from cold, and from fear. I was absurdly terrified of nighttime critters, not just weird bird men or potential aliens. My greatest fear was snakes. I’d developed an almost paralyzing fear of them, ever since I’d found a cottonmouth sleeping in my Rollerblade when I was six. I knew my snake phobia wasn’t totally rational—that I had more to worry about right now than snakes—but for all I knew, the dead-skull person had died of a snakebite. I’d spent the last four nights huddled against a tree, armed with my rock dagger, waiting. I’d been stood up, at least by anything creepy, but I’d barely slept.

  And now the darkness was back.

  I jogged over to a large black rock on the sand and curled beside it, soaking up the residual warmth from the sun. For the first time, I stayed on the beach as night fell, watching the stars come out. As the constellations took shape, I blinked. There was the Little Dipper, glowing brilliantly against the clear night sky, with Polaris shining brightest of all.

  I was on Earth, but I had no idea where on Earth I was. Or when.

  I was totally alone.

  Like a rubber band stretched past its limit, I broke. I bawled, like Em after the car accident, but not like Em, because there was no one to hold my hands and tell me everything would be okay. Nothing was okay, especially me. I wept until I was as empty as the beach around me and then I lay there, spent. Still cold, I no longer shook. I was oddly numb.

  I’d just dozed off when a crunching sound echoed like an alarm.

  The noise intensified, then stopped. Silence rushed in, louder than before. Pressed tight to my rock, I listened. A twig cracked, then another, snapping as crisply as the break of dry bones. A whoop, guttural and plaintive, reverberated through the night air.

  Something was moving through the trees behind me. Something that didn’t sound human.

  Something that just might be as hungry as me.

  CHAPTER

  6

  THAD

  DAY 271, NIGHT

  “Nat—”

  “No.” Her face was set, like her mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d reminded me of my kid sister, Holly.

  “Look, you’ve got Priority,” I said. “You need to go.”

  The firelight made Natalie’s cheeks as hollow as her eyes. They’d been that way ever since her Search team came back without Kevin.

  When Natalie stayed silent, I tried a different tack. “Plus, it’ll give you something else to think about, eh?”

  Natalie turned to me, shadows falling across her face. “You think going on Search will take my mind off Kevin?” She laughed, a lifeless sound. “It’s all I think about. Every minute of every day. How much I miss him, how much I want to be with him, how much I hope he made it. But if I go on Search, I might never know. And worse, what if I find—” Pressing her lips into a tight line, she shook her head.

  “Okay,” I agreed, like I had any say in her choice. “But soon, Nat, okay? You won’t get anywhere sitting here.”

  “I hear you,” Natalie said.

  But are you listening? I thought. Because Nil sure as hell is. Surely this was part of Nil’s fun. Watching veterans squirm as our days ran out, crowing as we lost time to indecision or, in Nat’s case, grief.

  “Promise you’ll think about it?” I asked, using my gentlest big brother tone. “About going?”

  Natalie lifted her haunted eyes to mine. “It’s all I think about
.”

  Don’t we all? I thought. The wind sliced through the trees, and I swear I heard Nil laugh.

  Rives came over and gave Nat a silent hug, then sat on the rock beside her. No one had much to say, and within minutes Natalie stood.

  “I’m out. See you guys in the morning. Another dawn, another day.” She didn’t even try to smile.

  “Chin up, twin,” Rives said. “It’s not over till the fat lady sings.” He cupped his hand behind his ear, making an exaggerated show of listening. “Nope, don’t hear a thing.” Rives dropped his hand and grinned. “Definitely no singing.”

  Nat looked at Rives, her eyes weary. “There are no fat ladies on Nil, you know that.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But thanks.”

  “I hate this,” Rives said after Natalie walked away. He stared at the darkness where Natalie disappeared. “God, I hope Kevin made it. That’s a good girl right there.”

  “I know.”

  For a minute, we just sat there, watching flames cut into the night. A Nil cat, a tiny gray one I’d never seen before, rubbed against a fire-warmed rock, arching her back and purring. Cats were everywhere on Nil. Some harmless, some not. This one was so small I wondered if it was a native. Watching the cat, I thought of Burton. He’d been conspicuously absent since I’d dissed his dead bird offering. That random train of thought shot me straight back to Kevin, and the mental ride sucked.

  Rives leaned back on his elbows and looked at the stars. “Do you ever get used to it?” he asked quietly. “The waiting?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Sucks every time.”

  Rives nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  That night, it took forever to fall asleep. I lay there, thinking about Kevin, and about Natalie. But mostly I thought about Nil.

  Nil’s like that girl you spot in the lodge after a full day of kick-ass boarding, when you’re stoked and high on life. She looks good, freakin’ hot. Long hair, tight body, killer smile. Has a name like … Mallory.

  But once you really get to know her, the truth rips your guts out. The truth is, she’s cruel. Heartless. The kind of girl who sleeps with your best friend when your back is turned. And once the mask falls off, so does the glamour. That’s the island of Nil in a nutshell. Blow-your-mind gorgeous, until you peel away the façade and see her for who she really is.

  It wasn’t the first time I wondered what she had in store for me.

  CHAPTER

  7

  CHARLEY

  DAY 12, DAWN

  I hadn’t slept in three days, and the mere thought of a coconut made me gag. I knew that if I could just eat some protein, I’d feel better—or at least not starve. So for the past few miserable hours, I’d been crafting a net from palm fronds.

  I glanced at my net, decided it looked ridiculous, and kept weaving anyway.

  The air was cool and dark; the stars were just beginning to fade. Huddled beside a rock, I worked robotically, totally aware I was in a mental free fall. I felt nauseous and shaky, like I’d downed too many energy drinks at once. Two nights ago, I’d heard a distinct roar, throaty and wild, like a lion in the Atlanta zoo. But for all I knew, the roar belonged to a dinosaur. At this point, anything seemed possible, except sleep.

  Last night had been the worst yet. First I’d heard roars, then sounds I couldn’t identify. Not a roar, not a howl, but more like an inhuman cackle. It lasted forever, echoing through the darkness. I didn’t know what the heck it was, and I didn’t want to find out. All I knew was that something was out there in the woods, something other than just the random goat that kept sneaking up on me in the night. Something I didn’t want to meet.

  As I forced another frond into place, I tallied my personal scorecard. Eleven nights of freaky darkness. Five with visits from the nocturnal goat, two with prehistoric roars, and one with creepy cackles. And eleven long days without solid food, decent sleep, people, or shimmers. I thought I’d seen a shimmer yesterday, moving south on the black sand, but I wasn’t certain. I wondered if the zebra was real. If any of this was real. There’d been no rain, and the weather didn’t change. Each day was sunny, clear, breezy, and quiet.

  Worse than the silence was the isolation. I thought again of Hell. Or purgatory. Or something else, possibly worse, and I was in it. And yet it was the most beautiful nowhereland I could imagine. The sunsets were gorgeous: brilliant fire shooting across the water until the sun fell into the sea, and the sunrises were just as stunning. Naturally I was awake for both since I couldn’t sleep. The sand was as black as coal, the water as clear as glass. Farther from shore, the water turned to glittering aquamarine as it stretched toward the sky, vast and breathtaking.

  It was too beautiful to have all to myself, and yet I did.

  Whose clothes are you wearing, Charley? my mind whispered. Whose skull did you find? Maybe I wasn’t alone, but I sure felt like it. Home seemed light-years away.

  I wondered what my mom and dad were doing right now. Were they putting up flyers with pictures of me? What about Target? Did the parking lot have security cameras, and if so, what would they show? The shimmer? Me fainting? I prayed they hadn’t captured me naked. Then I realized it didn’t matter, because whatever the Target-cam had recorded, it wouldn’t help anyone find me here. The only person who could get me out of here was me.

  I stared at my wilted net in shock.

  When had I switched from escape to survival? I hadn’t explored in days. I’d stuck near my shelter, conserving energy and spending the heat of the day out of the sun.

  No more.

  I’d leave. I’d go back to the red rock field and look for shimmers; they were the only clue I had. But if I wanted food, I’d better grab it now.

  I gave myself one day. This day. To gather food, then either way, I was gone.

  The sun woke, rising quickly. A bird soared overhead, and in a flash of survival brilliance, I decided to hunt for nests. If I could steal some eggs, I could suck out the insides like I’d been draining coconuts, a primitive version of a protein shake.

  After stashing my net, I strode along the tree line, heading south. To my dismay, my goat broke from the trees and followed me. Yesterday I’d made the mistake of tossing him fruit rinds, and he’d escalated his stalking ever since.

  “Shoo!” I scolded.

  The goat looked at me like I was crazy. Determined to ignore him, I continued walking, scouring the trees for nests, but each time I glanced back, the goat was still there. With my luck, he’d scare off the very birds I was trying to track.

  Down the beach, a handful of birds circled, lazy and watchful. More clustered on the black sand—like vultures, but smaller. They were pecking at something on the ground. Mindful of the skull, I approached warily, but the goat charged ahead and startled the birds. One dived at my face. Jumping back, I screamed.

  On the sand, the birds shifted. Through the gap, I saw a horseshoe crab carcass.

  Just a crab, I thought with a rush of relief.

  Could I eat raw crab? I gagged at the thought; the answer was no.

  I moved toward the sea, giving the crab and its scavengers a wide berth. My persistent goat took the high road, trotting along the tree line.

  The rising sun spread across my shoulders. I walked slowly along the water’s edge, soaking up the warmth, and I’d just geared myself up to head back into the cool shade of the trees when a spotted animal leaped from the tree line. The size of a large dog, it moved like a cat, low and fast, like a crazed mutant cheetah. Still airborne, the cat-dog sank its teeth into the goat’s flank, flicked its jaw once and threw the goat to the ground. The birds scattered; the goat went down without a fight. The spotted animal tore into the goat like this was a National Geographic special.

  WHAT WAS THAT? my brain screamed.

  I backed into the water, terrified the animal would decide my goat was just an appetizer to the main course of me. Submerged to my neck, I moved parallel to the beach, willing myself invisible and keeping an eye on the cat-dog. It was wholly fo
cused on its goat feast. When the animal was a mere speck, I left the water and raced to my hideout at the edge of the trees.

  Forget eggs, fish, and my plan to leave in the morning.

  I’d had enough of this secluded bay, where animals roared and people died and goat-killing animals leaped from the trees without a sound. I was getting the heck out of this freaky place now, before the next predator came after me. I. Was. Done.

  I took off my chest wrap, squeezed the water out, and put it back on, thankful the cloth dried quickly. Moving with desperate efficiency, I ate my last greenfruit and washed it down with water stored in my hollow coconuts. I drank them dry, knowing I’d refill them on my way. My half-finished net lay under a bush at the sand’s edge. I dragged it out, found my dagger, and, peering through the leaves, I cast one final look at my beach.

  Then I nearly fell through the bush in shock. Two boys were walking down the beach. My beach.

  And they were coming straight toward me.

  CHAPTER

  8

  THAD

  DAY 278, DAWN

  The mood in the City sucked. Even for Nil, it was a new low.

  I lay there, hating Nil for the torture. For the constant mental merry-go-round. For the current City vibe, which was one body short of a burial. The wait for news on Kevin was killing us, which was probably the point.

  After grabbing breakfast, I strode to the Wall. So many names, too many names. All gouged into the wood, first names only. I checked out Kevin’s, like maybe good news had come in the night, even though I knew it hadn’t. Of course the space beside his name sat empty. Waiting, like us.

  Finding my name, I tapped each letter, too restless today to trace. Then I tapped my blank space. No cross, no check. I’m still here. Then I glanced back at Kevin’s. No check, no cross. But he’s gone.

  Like Ramia.